Beautiful Creatures(42)

The movie was terrible. Ten minutes in, I already knew the ending.

“He did it,” I whispered.

“What?”

“That guy. He’s the murderer. I don’t know who he kills, but he did it.” That was the other reason Link didn’t want to sit by me: I always knew the ending at the beginning and I couldn’t keep it to myself. It was my version of doing the crossword. It was the reason I was so good at video games, carnival games, checkers with my dad. I could figure things out, right from the first move.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

How does this end?

I knew what she meant. But for the first time, I just didn’t know the answer.

Happy. Very, very happy.

Liar. Now hand over the Milk Duds.

She pushed her hand into the pocket of my sweatshirt, looking for them. Only it was the wrong side, and instead she found the last thing she was expecting. There it was, the little pouch, the hard lump that we both knew was the locket. Lena sat up with a start, pulling it out and holding it up like it was some kind of dead mouse. “Why are you still carrying that around in your pocket?”

“Shh.” We were annoying the people around us, which was funny considering they weren’t even watching the movie.

“I can’t leave it in the house. Amma thinks I buried it.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“It doesn’t matter, the thing has a mind of its own. It almost never works. You’ve seen it every time it has.”

“Can you shut up?” The couple in front of us came up for air. Lena jumped, dropping the locket. We both grabbed for it. I saw the handkerchief falling off, as if it were in slow motion. I could barely see the white square in the dark. The big screen twisted into an inconsequential spark of light, and we could already smell the smoke— Burning a house with women in it.

It couldn’t be true. Mamma. Evangeline. Genevieve’s mind was racing. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She broke into a run, ignoring the ragged claws of the bushes urging her to go back and Ethan and Ivy’s voices calling after her. The bushes opened up, and there were two Federals in front of what was left of the house Genevieve’s grandfather had built. Two Federals pouring a tray full of silver into a government-issue rucksack. Genevieve was a rush of black billowing fabric catching the gusts kicked up by the fire.

“What the—”

“Grab her, Emmett,” the first teenage boy called to the other.

Genevieve was taking the stairs two at a time, choking on the gales of smoke pouring from the opening where the front door had been. She was out of her mind. Mamma. Evangeline. Her lungs were raw. She felt herself falling. Was it the smoke? Was she going to faint? No, it was something else. A hand on her wrist, pulling her down.

“Where do you think you’re going, girl?”

“Let me go!” she screamed, her voice raw from the smoke. Her back hit the stairs one by one as he dragged her, a blur of navy and gold. Her head hit next. Heat, then something wet dripping down the collar of her dress. Dizziness and confusion mixed with desperation.

A gunshot. The sound was so loud it brought her back, cutting through the darkness. The hand gripping her wrist relaxed. She tried to will her eyes to focus.

Two more shots rang out.

Lord, please spare Mamma and Evangeline. But in the end, it was too much to ask, or maybe it had been the wrong question. Because when she heard the sound of the third body drop, her eyes refocused long enough to see Ethan’s gray wool jacket sprayed with blood. Shot by the very soldiers he had refused to fight against anymore.

And the smell of blood mixed with gunpowder and burning lemons.

The credits were rolling, and the lights were coming up. Lena’s eyes were still closed, and she was lying back in her seat. Her hair was messed up, and neither one of us could catch our breath.

“Lena? You okay?”

She opened her eyes, and pushed up the armrest between us. Without a word, she rested her head on my shoulder. I could feel her shaking so hard she couldn’t even speak.

I know. I was there, too.

We were still sitting like that when Link and the rest of them walked by. Link winked at me and held out his fist as he passed, like he was going to tap it against mine the way he did after I made a tough shot on the court.

But he had it wrong, they all did. We may have been in the last row, but we hadn’t been hooking up. I could smell the blood and the gunshots were still ringing in my ears.

We had just watched a man die.

10.09

Gathering Days

After the Cineplex, it didn’t take long. Word got out that Old Man Ravenwood’s niece was hanging out with Ethan Wate. If I wasn’t Ethan Wate Whose Mamma Died Just Last Year, the talk might have spread with more speed, or more cruelty. Even the guys on the team had something to say. It just took them longer than usual to say it, because I hadn’t given them a chance.

For a guy who couldn’t survive without three lunches, I’d been skipping half of them since the Cineplex—at least, skipping them with the team. But there were only so many days I could get by on half a sandwich on the bleachers, and there were only so many places to hide.

Because really, you couldn’t hide. Jackson High was just a smaller version of Gatlin; there was nowhere to go. My disappearing act hadn’t gone unnoticed with the guys. Like I said, you had to show up for roll call, and if you let a girl get in the way of that, especially a girl who wasn’t on the approved list—meaning, approved by Savannah and Emily—things got complicated.